


Grief Lessons

by benmitchells



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Trauma, nothing is explicitly mentioned though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 00:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20938970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benmitchells/pseuds/benmitchells
Summary: Callum had watched Ben for a moment – he’d been playing with his ring, twisting it around his finger, pulling it most of the way off then pushing it back on again, smiling at all the right times so Lexi wouldn’t notice anything wrong. But Callum did. Callum noticed.ORBen is clearly having a bad day, but he refuses to talk about it.





	Grief Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> as usual i'm terrible at summaries but this is for the prompt: 'Can I request a headcanon or fic where Ben’s having a bad day and gets stuck thinking of the bad stuff he’s been through. Callum tries to help him. Preferably with Ben being insecure about telling Callum about all of his past?' 
> 
> enjoy <3

“Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief.”

– _Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides_, Anne Carson

Callum is an early riser. He has been ever since he was young, but being in the military only solidified a long-standing habit of his, and now he’s awake at 6am, practically on the dot, nearly every single day. Sometimes he manages to fall back to sleep, sometimes he doesn’t, but everyday he’s awake at 6 – weekend or weekday, rain or shine, even if he’s ill. His body remembers the military; the routine of it, the trouble he’d get into if he wasn’t up and ready with his bed made by 6:30am. He thinks his body thinks it’s still there, if the nightmares are anything to go by.

It’s a habit that Callum wonders if he’ll ever break. He doubts it, sometimes.

Ben, on the other hand, can – and will – sleep through anything. He’d sleep days away if you’d let him. He’s the type of person who’ll snooze their alarm at least five times before even considering getting out of bed; who needs an hour after getting up to even be fully awake. Ben hates waking up in the morning, and is never up a second earlier than he has to be. It’s just who he is.

That’s why Callum should have known something was wrong when he woke up this morning and found the bed empty.

Ben doesn’t wake up before him. He doesn’t, and the fact that he had – not only that, but he was up and out of bed – should have set alarm bells ringing straight away.

It should have, but it didn’t. Callum had thought nothing of it, going through his usual morning routine as normal. The thought that something could be wrong doesn’t even __occur __to him, not until he’d found Ben at the dining table, sitting in silence, staring down into a cold, barely touched tea. His first thought was that Ben was coming down with something, and reached out to press his hand against his forehead; Ben had startled and pulled away, but Callum could feel that he wasn’t hot. This was something else.

Callum had tried to ask then if there was something the matter, but Ben had been evasive and edgy, dodging all of his questions in favour of darting off to the kitchen to make himself a fresh tea. He had been uncharacteristically chatty, especially for so early – about a new car he had coming into the car lot today, about the unreliable delivery men, about the fact that there’s not a lot of milk left, but Callum could have the last of it if he wanted, he didn’t mind, though Ian was going to go ballistic when he woke up and found out they’d used the last of it, and hey, where’s his phone, he swears he just had it, he swears-

He’d just kept talking like that, constantly; the more he spoke, the more concerned Callum had become. Ben’s eyes were bloodshot, he noticed, and his hands shook as he picked up his mug. Callum tried to ask again if he was alright – Ben insisted that he was perfectly fine, but he couldn’t look him in the eye as he said it. He had tried to push, to ask more questions, but he could see Ben’s eyebrows beginning to furrow in annoyance, could see him getting defensive and shutting down, so he decided to leave it – just for ten minutes, just until Ben calmed down; then he’d try again.

But Ian had come down a few minutes later and had gone predictably ballistic about the fact that there was no milk, then Lola and Lexi had come down not long after and Ben had rushed upstairs while Callum was distracted, and he had lost his chance to ask. Between the morning rush in the Beale’s house and having to get ready for work, he didn’t even _see_Ben again until he was just about to leave for the funeral parlour – he was back sat at the table, his eyes glazed over as he half-listened to Lexi talk about what she’d been learning at school recently. Callum had watched him for a moment – he’d been playing with his ring, twisting it around his finger, pulling it most of the way off then pushing it back on again, smiling at all the right times so Lexi wouldn’t notice anything wrong. But Callum did. Callum noticed.

He had wanted to ask Ben then what was bothering him, but he knew he probably shouldn’t. Not with so many people flittering about. Not with Lexi right there. So he left.

The whole thing had continued to bother Callum for a while, but between drop-ins and a funeral and 3 consultations and a small mountain of filing that had to be done, they had been so busy at the parlour that it had eventually slipped his mind. It hadn’t been until he’d text Ben asking if he was around for lunch and got a short ‘waiting for the car’ reply that he remembered what had happened that morning. He’d thought about asking then if something was up, but he decided against it – he didn’t have the time to give Ben the attention that he deserved if he did decide he wanted to talk. It’s not the kind of thing you should do over text anyway.

That afternoon had been just as busy as the morning, and Callum had forgotten all about it again until that evening, after he’s left the parlour and catches sight of Ben wandering across the Square. Even from far away he seems haggard and exhausted, walking with his shoulders hunched and his head ducked towards the ground like he’s trying to hide his face from the world. It’s worlds away from the man Callum’s used to; the cocky swagger Ben usually walks with. All the worry Callum had felt that morning returns tenfold.

He calls Ben’s name once, twice, three times, but it’s like he can’t hear him. It forces Callum to chase him, having to jog slightly to catch up. He continues to call Ben’s name, but even stood right behind him there’s no response, so Callum reaches out and grabs his arm and-

Ben flinches.

He pulls away from the hold as soon as he feels the hand on him, but Callum still feels it under his palm – the way Ben’s whole body jolts in fear. And if that wasn’t telling enough, the way he quickly turns around, ducking his head and lifting his arms instinctively to protect his face, his hands curled into fists – that says it all.

Ben soon realizes it’s just Callum and drops his guard, but there’s still something wild and panicked in his eyes. Something haunted.

He had been expecting a hit. He had been expecting someone to hit him.

“Easy- it’s just me.” Callum says, holding out his open palms towards him to show he means no harm. There’s a pit in his stomach now, filling him with dread.

“Don’t fucking sneak up on me like that!” Ben’s eyes are now frantically looking all around – for a threat, or maybe just for someone who might have witnessed his moment of weakness. His hands are still in fists. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“It was hardly sneaking up – I called your name about a dozen times.” Callum tells him, but Ben doesn’t even seem to be listening to him. “Ben, are you alright?”

“Course I am, why’d you ask?”

Callum can tell he’s trying to come across as normal, but it’s not working. “I don’t know, you just seem a bit-”

His eyes are suddenly sharp on Callum’s. “What?”

“_Jumpy_. And you were quiet this morning as well,” Ben looks away, “is there something I should know?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” Callum feels stupid stood there – he’d spent half the day wanting to talk to Ben, and now that he’s got the chance he doesn’t know what to say. “You would tell me if-”

“I don’t have time for this.” Ben scoffs, suddenly moving past him. It happens so quickly that catches Callum off guard, and it takes a moment for him to catch up and follow.

“Ben, don’t be like that.”

“Like _what_, Callum?”

“Like _this_.” He tries to take Ben’s arm again, but it immediately gets ripped away. “Ben, please, just talkto me-”

“Because talking’s gonna help, is it?” He doesn’t give Callum a chance to reply. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Callum.”

“Yeah, because you don’t _tell_me-”

“Oh because it’s all about you, ain’t it?” Sarcasm drips from his every word.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just think-”

“You _think_?” Ben comes to an abrupt stop, whirling back around to face him. Callum can tell by the look on his face that he’s not going to like whatever is going to come out of his mouth next. “Do me a favour Callum – as if you ever _think_.”

He can pinpoint the moment Ben realizes what he’s just said; can see the shock flood across his face, the regret. Ben’s mouth opens and closes, words stuttering in his throat. Callum swallows and looks away, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He allows a himself a moment to be hurt, then decides to take the hit for what it is – Ben’s defence mechanism, his way of trying to drive people away so they don’t see him when he’s vulnerable. A year ago it might have worked – a month ago, even. But not anymore. Callum knows, now; he sees this for what it is. It won’t work this time.

“Callum I’m sorry, I-”

“Are you finished with your little tantrum now?” Callum asks – the hardness of his voice surprises even him. Ben, rather than getting angry or offended, just looks down at the pavement between them. “Now are you gonna tell me what’s the matter like an adult, or are you just gonna keep kicking off and trying to push me away?”

Ben looks off to the side, sighing long and hard through his nose. His mouth stays clamped shut.

Callum tries again. “Is there something going on? Do I need to be worried?”

“There’s nothing going on,” Ben assures him quietly, turning and finally meeting Callum’s gaze. His eyes are glassy with exhaustion, “I promise, it’s nothing I’m just,” he looks up to the sky, “having one of them days.”

Callum lets out a sigh of his own, forces his body to relax a little. “Then talk to me about it.” he tries, but Ben won’t look at him. “Ben, whatever it is, I wanna help.”

“There’s nothing to say, Callum.”

“Don’t do that, don’t shut me out.” It’s clear he doesn’t want to have this conversation, but Callum isn’t going to let him just wiggle out of it like he usually does; not when he’s so clearly upset. “I hate seeing you like this, Ben. And I wanna help you, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Ben starts to say something, but then seems to change his mind – instead the defences start being built back up. “It doesn’t matter, yeah? Just- don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

He makes to leave, but this time Callum steps in front of him before he can get anywhere.

“Don’t worry about you- of course I’m _worried_about you. How can I not, when you’re in this state?”

“I’m not in-”

“And you shouldn’t have to just _be_ _fine_all the time, Ben, not if you’re not.” For a moment Ben seems stunned, his eyes wide on Callum’s before his gaze drops to the ground again. Callum’s sure he’s getting through to him – properly this time – so he risks a step towards him, reaching out to take hold of his arms. “Ben, please just _talk_to me. Whatever it is – no matter how bad or scary, you can tell me anything. You know that, yeah?”

He can just make out Ben swallowing twice – hard – in quick succession, and then he lifts his head back up. It almost takes Callum’s breath away to see him like this; like he’s barely holding it together. When he speaks, his voice is thick with emotion. “Not here.”

It takes Callum a second to find his own voice again. “Where then?”

“The car lot,” Ben tells him, pulling himself out of Callum’s hold and heading in that direction, not waiting or checking to see that Callum is following, “it’s the only place we’re gonna get any privacy.”

When they get to the car lot, Callum stands quietly off to the side while Ben unlocks the door to the office. Ben gets inside first and immediately starts going around closing the blinds. It feels like a delay tactic, but Callum doesn’t call him out on it. He’ll let him get away with it for a minute.

Ben eventually stops faffing about the office and he sits down at his desk, leaving Callum no other option but to sit down opposite him – in the punter’s chair, as Ben calls it. Callum hates the distance and the barrier it puts between them, having the whole desk between them, but short of sitting down on the desk itself he doesn’t really have a choice in the matter. And maybe Ben will prefer having a little bit of space. Some breathing room.

They sit there in silence for a few moments before Ben reaches down into one of his drawers and pulls out a half empty bottle of whiskey. Callum expects Ben to start drinking, but he just puts it down on the desk between them and leaves it there – stares at it, but makes no move to open it. Almost as if he’s not sure whether he wants a drink or not.

Callum doesn’t ask why he has a bottle of whiskey in his desk. He doesn’t ask if he’s going to drink it. He doesn’t ask anything. They’re in no rush.

“I had a nightmare, last night.” Ben says after a little while. He’s fiddling with his ring again. The bottle is still untouched between them. “About Paul. What happened.”

Callum nods, mostly to himself. He was half expecting that answer, though he is a little surprised – he’s never known Ben to have nightmares, not about anything. “Is that why you were up so early this morning?”

Ben lets out a humourless laugh. “A bit hard to fall back to sleep after something like that.”

“I know.”

Ben’s eyes snap to Callum’s. He seems to deflate. Quietly, he says, “Course you do.”

They’re both thinking about it: the times when Ben has woke him up from his own nightmares, hushing him and holding him until the shaking stops. Callum’s lost count of how many times it’s happened by now.

“You should’ve woke me.” Callum tells him gently.

“What for?” Ben asks, just as gently. “What could you have done?”

“I don’t know- _something_.” He shrugs, feeling helpless. The thought of Ben waking up and dealing with this alone while Callum was sleeping soundly next to him is just _upsetting_– Ben should have woke him up. He should have felt like he could wake him up. “Just beenthere. You’ve been there for me enough times.”

“You were there.” Ben tells him in that soft, earnest voice he has that always knocks Callum for six. “Alright, you were unconscious but… you were still there, Callum. That’s more than I’m used to having.”

Callum looks down at his lap. “I just wish I could do more. I wish I could help you __properly__, the way you’ve helped me.”

“Callum.” He hears Ben shift forward, his chair creaking; hears him move the bottle out of the way so he can lean on the desk. “Callum, look at me.” He waits until he does, and then looks Callum dead in the eye as he speaks. “You do help me. Every day you help me; more than I think you even realize.”

Callum looks away, suddenly overwhelmed. “This ain’t supposed to be about me.”

“Don’t get all shy on me now, Cal; you wanted me to talk so now I’m talking.”

Ben’s got his head tilted to the side, a small smirk playing on his lips. He’s trying to change the subject. “Yeah, but not about-”

“I know,” Ben says quickly, the smirk dropping from his face, “I know, I’m not trying to make a joke out of it but… you know what I’m like.” They share a smile. “And I’m sorry for being off with you all day-”

“Don’t be-”

“-and for having a go at you out there. Because you’re right, I shouldn’t be taking it out on you – none of this is your fault, is it? You’re only trying to help and I keep… doing what I do best.” Callum doesn’t say anything, though he wants to. He’s almost scared to interrupt Ben now, in case shuts back down again and the moment is gone. “It’s just- you know how it is. It starts of with one thing and then it’s another and then another and then it just…” he shakes his head, “spirals.”

Callum waits a moment longer in case there’s more, but Ben stays quiet. “So it’s not just the dream that’s upset you then?”

Ben smiles – or tries to smile is probably a more accurate description of it. A second later he’s taking a big breath as he leans back in his chair, tipping his head back so far that Callum can no longer see his face. Ben stays there for a long moment, just staring at the ceiling before he takes another breath – this one deep and shuddering, like it’s hard to get down. The sound of it makes Callum’s heart seize, his stomach knot up; he leans forward subconsciously, shifting to the very edge of his chair to try and close the distance between them.

“Ben?”

“I’m alright.” He says, even though he clearly isn’t – when he lifts his head, it’s clear how hard he’s trying not to cry. “I’m alright, I’m just being stupid.”

“You’re not being stupid.”

“I am, Callum,” he insists, his voice tight, “I am because I’m thinking about these stupid, _stupid_things from the past – things that shouldn’t even matter anymore, it shouldn’t-” he cuts himself off, takes another shuddering breath, “and I know that- I _know_that, but it still won’t get out of _here_.” He jabs his finger into his temple so hard it makes Callum wince.

“What won’t?”

Ben scoffs slightly, looks away. “It’s not important.”

“It obviously is if it’s still bothering you.”

“_No_, Callum, it ain’t!” He’s frustrated, Callum can tell that much; all his movements jerky and tense. It’s like he’s annoyed at himself for being upset. “Because it doesn’t _matter_. All that matters is that it’s in the past and I should be over it by now.”

“You know as well as I do that ain’t how it works.” Callum tells him, quiet but firm. “Should I be over everything that’s happened to me? My dad, the army, Chris – should I just get over all of that?”

Ben looks at him, suddenly alarmed. “That’s not what I-”

“No- no I know it’s not.” Callum says quickly, not wanting to upset him any more. “But what I’m trying to say is that… why is it one rule for you and another for everyone else? Why am I allowed to be upset and have a hard time with this stuff but you ain’t?” Ben’s jaw works for a moment, then he tips his head back again. “You’re allowed to be upset and have a bad day, Ben.”

Callum can see him barely shaking his head. “No, I can’t.”

“Of courseyou can. Ben, you’re entitled to be sad just as much as anyone else – you don’t have to hide it behind anger all the time. You’re allowed to just be upset.” Because that’s exactly what this is; Ben is trying to hide his pain behind anger. It’s what he always does – what he’s always _done_– but Callum can see right through him now, can see the hurt right there, just under the surface, as clear as day. “You don’t have to pretend that you’re alright all the time, not in front of me.”

Callum just wants to touch him, to hold his hands and wipe his tears and pull him into his chest – he’s pressed himself as close as he possibly can to the desk just to be closer to him. But Ben needs to work through this on his own. His body language says it all – even allowing Callum to see this much is hard for him. That being touched and comforted will only make it worse right now. Callum will respect that.

When Ben speaks, Callum can tell he’s crying, even if he’s still got his face turned away from him. “I’m just scared, Callum.”

“Of what?”

“Everything.” He admits through gritted teeth. It’s an admission that breaks Callum’s heart. “I am so scared of _everything_, Callum; of all of it. And I can’t- God, I don’t want to even _let_myself think about any of it because I’m scared that if I do – if I let myself give in to it then- then it will _kill_me.” Ben lifts his head up and looks right at him – there’s something young and boyish in it, like he wants to hear Callum tell him that’ll all be alright. “That if I- if I let it all out, y’know, that I- I won’t be able to put it back in. I am _terrified_of letting myself be sad about it, Callum, because I feel like if I let myself be sad for a minute, yeah- just a minute, then I… I won’t know how to _stop_being sad.”

There’s a beat of silence. Ben offers a wobbly smile even though there are tears steadily rolling down his cheeks now. Callum wants to brush them away, but he can’t – he feels like he can’t even move.

“Y’know,” Ben continues, “it’s like I’m in a boat that’s like- it’s taking on water. And I’m alright because I’ve got a bucket and I keep chucking the water back out and there’s this balance, you know; there’s this balance where I’m- I’m getting the water out just as fast as it’s coming in so I’m not sinking. But if I stop for a second just to think then… I’m done for, ain’t I? It’s over.”

“Ben-” but Ben sits forward then, suddenly takes a tight hold of Callum’s hands and leaning towards him, and all of the words die in Callum’s throat.

“How do you do it, Callum, how do you- how do you do it? How do you live with it all and not want to tear the world apart?”

Callum doesn’t have an answer to give him – he doesn’t know how he lives with it sometimes either. But it doesn’t seem like Ben even really wanted an answer, because all the tension seems to leave his body at once then, and he leans over and rests his forehead against their joint hands. Looking down at the top of Ben’s head, it almost looks as though he’s begging Callum for something. The sight of it makes a lump form in his throat.

“You are so good, Callum,” Ben says then, his voice muffled by the desk, “you’re so good and I’m-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Callum feels a vague puff of air against his hands – a laugh, or the ghost of one. He strokes his thumbs against the skin of Ben’s cheeks. He waits.

Ben sits back up before long, his face wet, his eyes red and puffy, but he’s not crying anymore. He’s stares down at their joined hands, starts fiddling with Callum’s fingers. It looks like he’s thinking.

“You do know it’s not because of you, don’t you?” Ben eventually asks. They’d been sitting in silence for so long that Callum almost jumps at the sound of Ben’s voice. “It’s not that I don’t trust you or I don’t feel like I can talk to you or because I’m deliberately trying to shut you out – you know that, yeah?”

Callum squeezes his hands. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“Yeah I do. I do.” Ben’s eyes are on Callum now, the blue of them piercing. “If there’s anyone I should explain myself to it’s you. Because you’ve been- you’re so good to me, Callum. And I want you to know that I’m- it’s not _you_, yeah? It’s not- you need to know that; none of it is-”

“Alright.” Callum says. He can see Ben getting worked up again. “Alright, Ben, I get it – it’s not me.” Ben seems relieved to hear Callum say it. “But that don’t mean I don’t wish you would talk to me about this stuff. About anything – everything. And I’m not- I’m really not trying to push you-”

“I know you’re not.”

“I just- I hate seeing you like this. I hate not knowing what to do to help you.” He can’t help himself – he leans down and kisses both of Ben’s hands, then looks at them; how they fit with his, how his hands almost completely encompass Ben’s. He wishes he could do the same thing to Ben himself. “I just wish I could fix it. Because you know I would, Ben, in a heartbeat.”

“I know you would, you big sap.” There’s a small smile on Ben’s face. Callum’s glad he seems to be getting some of his humour back – but then his face goes serious again. “I will tell you one day, I promise. I just-” his eyes search the ceiling for the right words, “it’s easier to pretend that none of it ever happened. Because when I think about that stuff – I mean _really_think about it, it just,” his eyes go horribly vacant, “paralysesme. So I don’t think about it. And I don’t talk about any of it, not to anyone. Because when I do, I just turn into that- that scared little boy that I used to be. And I am so _sick_of being scared Callum, I’m so-”

Ben’s voice is breaking again and Callum can’t sit still any longer – he gets up and rounds the desk, dropping to his knees next to Ben’s chair so he can pull him into his arms. “It’s ok, Ben, it’s alright.”

Ben stays rigid, doesn’t hold him back – he’s shaking, Callum realizes, and tucks his face into his shoulder, presses as close to him as he can. “I’m still so angry Callum, I’m still so- but I don’t want to be angry anymore because it makes me this- this ugly, cruelshell of a man, and I don’t want to __be __that anymore, I don’t. Because you- you and Lexi, you deserve better than that. I _want_to be better than that. And _you_,” Ben pulls away but his hands reach out to take a hold of Callum’s face, looking right at him as he speaks, “you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in so long, Callum, and I’m- I know I don’t always act like it, but I am so, _so_scared of losing you.” Ben’s thumb strokes gently along his cheek. It almost feels like he’s the one doing the comforting now – it reminds Callum of that night in the park, almost. Ben had comforted him like this then. It’s been so long, and yet he's still the one comforting Callum, even when it should be the other way around. “And I’m scared that if I tell you about all of that…that stuff__, __that _baggage_, then you’ll realize what a fucking messI am and run a mile.”

He shakes his head the little he can with Ben holding him. “I wouldn’t, Ben.”

“And I wouldn’t even blame you, Cal, I wouldn’t-”

Callum’s having none of it – he slips his arms between Ben’s and places his hands firmly on either side of Ben’s face – Ben’s hands automatically move to take hold of his wrists. He presses his fingers into Ben’s skin to make sure he can feel him, solid and real and here. “Ben, you could never, _ever_scare me off, do you hear me? No matter how bad it is, no matter how much of a mess you were or are or- whatever– it doesn’t _matter_to me.” Callum can see Ben’s bottom lip wobbling so he presses his fingers down firmer. “There is nothing, _nothing_you could tell me that would make me want to run a mile, you hear me? You’re not getting rid of me, Ben. You’re stuck with me. I thought you would’ve realized that by now.”

He feels Ben’s laugh against his palms, which is not the reaction he had been expecting but he’ll take it. “You’re gonna regret saying that one day.”

“Doubt it.” That seems to shock Ben – as if he still hasn’t realized Callum would move heaven and earth for him if he could. “Ben, I knew you’d been in prison for manslaughter and still got with you anyway, I think I can handle whatever else you might throw at me.”

Ben pulls a face like he wants to smile but knows he shouldn’t. “And here I was, thinking you were a nice boy.”

Their laughter is quiet but needed. Ben still looks as though he’s one strong breeze away from crumbling like a sandcastle, but even if that happens it’s alright. Callum’s got him. He’ll put him back together again afterwards. He’ll do it as many times as Ben needs him to.

“I love you, Ben.” Callum tells him, shifting his weight – his knees are aching, but he’ll stay here all night if he needs to. “And whenever you’re ready to talk about the past or whatever has happened, I’ll be waiting, yeah? However long it takes. But don’t think that you have to hold back telling me things because you think it’s gonna be too much for me to handle, or because you’re gonna scare me off. Because I promise you, you won’t. You _can’t_.” He smiles lightly. “I once serenaded your dad by singing 500 Miles and lived to tell the tale; you can’t scare me.”

Confusion and amusement both flicker across Ben’s face in equal measure. “Well that’s a story if ever I’ve heard one.”

Callum laughs, embarrassed by the memory of it now – but in his defence, he hadn’t know at the time that he’d end up shacking up with Phil Mitchell’s _son_. “Another time. My point is that I’m tougher than I look.”

“I know you are.” Ben says quietly, a small smile still on his face; and then, even quieter he says, “I really don’t deserve you. Even if you do serenade my dad behind my back.”

Callum gives him a stern look. “Stop talking nonsense and come here.”

Without anymore resistance, Ben folds himself into Callum’s chest. The two of them settle on the floor, Callum’s back against the desk drawers and Ben between his legs. Callum can’t help but notice how little Ben feels between his arms – even more so than usual. Like all the bravado has gone and left his body smaller as a result. But it’s alright; Callum’s got him.

He presses a kiss to the crown of Ben’s head, one hand running up and down Ben’s arm, the other holding him tight to his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers, curling himself as much around Ben as their position allows. Ben takes a quivering breath, lets it go.

Callum wishes he could make it all better, somehow.

For now, he settles for this.

**Author's Note:**

> i have decided it's going to be My Thing to put a quote or poetry excerpt at the beginning of all my fics 
> 
> anyways lmao i hope you enjoyed!! kudos and comments are always appreciated!!
> 
> come and talk to me on tumblr @sunsetsover !!
> 
> <3


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